Last Thursday, I made my way dutifully to Manhyia Palace in Kumasi to attend the one-week rites of the late Asantehemaa Nana Konadu Yiadom III.
Of course, with live TV coverage of the event, I could have relaxed comfortably at home in Ashanti New Town to absorb all the action.
But the fact that my home is only a 15-minute walk from the palace made it almost a travesty to stay home.
There is always a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ about soaking up an event with physical presence in a way that TV coverage, however extensive, cannot capture.
Take the snippets of juicy gossip one overhears and dramas that take place away from the cameras, for instance, or bumping into old friends.
Sights, sounds and smells
As one would expect, Manhyia pulled all the stops to ensure it was a grand occasion.
The swirling, gigantic, colourful umbrellas housing all manner of royals from every corner of Asanteman, the sea of black cloths, the throbbing kete drums and accompanying graceful dancers, the twirling traditional priests and priestesses, clad in grass skirts and almost permanently in trance, the firing of muskets, scowling palace attendants with blackened faces, adorned with all manner of amulets and knives, and the aroma of grilled ‘bosoa’ (traditional Asante sausages) wafting through the air ― all came together to present a royal kaleidoscope.
From political grandees, including the Vice President, no less, to business moguls to movie actors to public servants, religious leaders, market queens and traditional rulers from various ethnic groups, they turned up from far and near to mourn with Otumfuo and Asanteman. Delegations from various corporate bodies, too, were not left out.
The microphones boomed with ‘nsawa’ donations in their thousands of Ghana Cedis, accompanied by cartons of schanpps and boxes of water to help Asanteman prepare for the main event next month.
Clearly, this was not the kind of funeral event one turned up at to donate ‘coins’.
As I savoured a glass of cold, refreshing bubra beer at a bar on my walk back home, I cast my mind back to the last royal funeral I attended in Manhyia when the then Asantehemaa, Nana Afua Serwaa Kobi Ampem II, joined her ancestors in 2016.
That funeral highlighted, for me, the interplay between customs grounded in traditional African religious practices on the one hand and the reality of the modern state on the other.
Even with all these customary practices around the funeral, an Anglican burial service was held at the Manhyia Palace grounds for the late Asantehemaa in 2017, almost as if in contradiction.
When the Asanteman Council imposed a curfew in Kumasi on the night of the royal burial, some murmured on social media, citing constitutional rights to free movement, and yet the edict was obeyed to the letter.
I believe we have not, as a people, quite completely weaned ourselves from traditional African religion and practices, nor have we fully embraced Christianity and modern democracy or even post-colonial statehood.
I believe that somehow, we have found peace with ourselves in straddling two almost diametrically opposed systems.
Beyond funerals, where we routinely pour libation at home before proceeding to church for a burial service for the deceased, we live dual-track lives, easily switching between suits and traditional wear, between traditional kingdoms and a republic, between western and traditional names, and between traditional marriage and white weddings, among many others. We love our versatility, it appears.
‘Shatta’ crowd dynamics
Whilst the streets of Manhyia exuded royal pomp and pageantry, it was a different kind of energy on the streets of central Accra, outside the offices of the Economic and Organised Crime Office (EOCO).
The reggae-dancehall star Charles Nii Armah Mensah Jr, better known as Shatta Wale, had been detained by EOCO in relation to a vehicle he purchased some time ago. His loyal fans from the streets would have none of that and massed up at EOCO, clad in red and calling for his release, while dancing away to their hero’s hits.
It was evident that they were not exactly the most educated or articulate ― indeed, they were miles away from the great and good gathered in Manhyia, both physically and figuratively. But then ‘all crowd be crowd’.
They loved him to bits, and he ― a cross between a rock star and royalty ― loved them right back.
Thursday reinforced just how much influence Shatta wields on the streets ― something that any serious political strategist would do well to take note of.
Drawing crowds
Whether as an institution or as an individual, it must be quite a special feat to draw massive crowds.
I suppose only a certain level of branding and depth, ensconced in a bubble of infallibility ― perhaps immortality even ― leads so many people, on their own volition, to swoon over, or in some cases to even die for, an individual or institution, and human history is replete with examples since the beginning of time.
In our political history, perhaps Dr Nkrumah and Jerry Rawlings have been our biggest crowd-pullers, with the masses literally eating from their hands. Both our leading political parties regularly draw mammoth crowds at their rallies in the lead-up to elections.
Several leading pastors continue to draw crowds to their events. Even in death, Daddy Lumba pulled quite a crowd at the vigil recently held in his honour in Accra.
As I pondered over the parallel Manhyia and Shatta crowds on Thursday, I began to have blurry visions of pulling crowds one day, standing on a high podium and majestically surveying the sea of humanity stretched out before me, hanging on to every word of mine.
Maybe it is not too late to launch a music career. Who knows, I might even crowd out Shatta and claim the streets. Well, that is the stuff dreams are made of.
Rodney Nkrumah-Boateng.
E-mail: rodboat@yahoo.com
